


Ye faithful

by Builder



Series: Heroverse [32]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21907936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: “What’s bugging you?”  Steve asks.Bucky waits the maximum amount of time before time before shrugging.  “Lights.  I guess.”“Want me to turn them off?”“No.”  Bucky doesn’t want to be a killjoy.  Besides, it’s not the lights that are bothering him.  He’s bothering him.  He just doesn’t know how to stop himself.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Heroverse [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/838239
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Ye faithful

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr@ Builder051

Bucky sits with his arms crossed, staring at the aura of red light the Christmas tree casts on the wall behind it. He sighs, trying not to associate the glow with anything but the upcoming holiday. Or the long past holiday, if he chooses to slice it that way. He’s pretty sure he remembers some ruddy glow of artificial candlelight in a bar downtown, then cupping Steve’s chin, stroking his cheek. Licking him. Practically lapping him up. A very merry Christmas that had been.

Bucky doesn’t even know how many years ago it was. But it doesn’t matter much. The memory shimmers and fades, giving way to other examples of red light a little closer to the surface. Districts, mostly. He can’t get those out of his head. All those women plastering themselves on him, asking questions and offering kisses, services, whatever. He’d never taken them up. He couldn’t have; he was always on duty. Yet still he felt horrible for them, probably enslaved just as much as he was. 

Then there’s the radar. Pulsating beams and bulbs on the textured topographical map on the wall in front of him. What did the agents use to build the mountains? Clay? Plaster? Certainly something in which could be concealed an entire circuit board… Unless Bucky was just hallucinating; seeing things that weren’t there to begin with.

One of the Christmas twinkle lights flickers and goes out. Bucky feels a shudder of fear. What if he hits a hard dark wall head on without the light to guide him? What if the Soviets put him back in the cryosleep? 

Steve jostles his knee as he sits beside him. “Hey. You ok?”

“Mm.”  
“Right.”

Bucky hopes Steve will drop it, but chances are low, since he didn’t give a real definitive answer. 

“What’s bugging you?” Steve asks.

Bucky waits the maximum amount of time before time before shrugging. “Lights. I guess.” 

“Want me to turn them off?”

“No.” Bucky doesn’t want to be a killjoy. Besides, it’s not the lights that are bothering him. He’s bothering him. He just doesn’t know how to stop himself.

“You sure?”

Bucky nods. Then drops his forehead into his hands. 

“Whoa, hey, what’s going on?” Steve sets down his coffee and Bailey’s and puts both hands on Bucky’s shoulders. 

Bucky pulls back, cringing under his partner’s tender touch. He doesn’t deserve it. He can’t deserve it. Steve’s trying to help, and here’s Bucky, practically pushing him away. 

Bucky stands up, disgusted with himself. 

“What?” Steve looks up at him, somehow back to his former feeble self down on the couch while Bucky stands over him. 

Bucky tries opening his mouth. He feels like he might cry. Maybe throw up. Either of those would be easier than trying to explain exactly what’s the matter.

He presses his lips together again and moistens them with his tongue. He looks at Steve. “I’m having a hard time,” he finally says, all in one breath.

“I know.”

“Yeah.”

“You, uh, need some help, Buck? Get through the rest of the season?” Steve slowly slips his feet to the floor and stands with a posture to match Bucky’s. 

“I, um…”

“Buck, you don’t have to–”

“I want… I want to be ok–”

Steve offers a soft smile. “Ok.”

“Ok.” “Bucky lets himself smile too.

“Now,” Steve says, “Tell me for real. Lights bugging you?”

Bucky takes a long pause. He bites his lip. “Yes,” he whispers, though for Steve’s benefit, not his own. He’ll keep feeling what he feels no matter what he can use his voice to express. 

The room goes dark, and Steve steps forward and folds Bucky into his arms. He seems to fill in all the gaps, all the empty spaces. And there are many–Bucky’s grown wan and thin again, all spine and pelvis instead of his usual silhouette of muscle. He fits perfectly against Steve, his ribs re-articulating and forming the outline of a human body again.

“That help?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” Steve grins and makes a tiny movement in the direction of the bedroom. “This ok?”

“Mm-hm.” Bucky nods, following Steve without letting go. “‘S good.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”


End file.
